


Museum Muses

by dontstraytoofar



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Artist Peggy and inspiring actress Angie :), F/F, Fluff, Modern AU, Past mention of Steggy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-19
Updated: 2015-08-19
Packaged: 2018-04-15 12:34:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4606986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontstraytoofar/pseuds/dontstraytoofar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"i went to a museum to get some inspiration to draw and then i saw you staring at one of the paintings in awe so i drew you and then you saw my picture and i am dying of embarrassment AU"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Museum Muses

**Author's Note:**

> My (very) late Modern au for cartinelli week. Enjoy!

~

Peggy doesn’t know why she picked the museum. Actually, Peggy isn’t sure of alot of her choices.

Like moving to New York for a job as a crime sketch artist, or ignoring her sister’s texts because last time she talked to her it ended in screaming. Or buying all those succulents that just sit on her apartment window ledge, or wondering why she didn’t choose to take her bicycle instead of walking to the building where she finds inspiration waiting for her. So yeah, quite frankly, Peggy Carter isn’t sure of alot of things nowadays. Even when anyone who has ever met her can guarantee you she’s probably the most surest person in the world.

Sure of her place, sure of her job, sure of herself.

But as she quickly runs up the steps of the museum, rain pelting lightly on her coat, sketch book under her arm with her hands deep in her pockets, she forced to remember how for some reason she pushes people away. Her sister, friends, that sunshine of a skinny boy who was torn from her.

It’s an oxymoron how Peggy is, well, _sure_ about one thing:

How she’s never really been good at love.

~

 **  
**She honestly wonders why she didn’t pick an _art_ museum for _artistic_ inspiration. **  
**

But here she is, on the circle of soft cushion seating in the middle of the room just titled _“Flightless Birds”_ as she stares into the face of a clearly fake Dodo bird. Seriously, what is her life anymore? But she goes to sketch its curved beak anyways, drawing her eyebrows together as she fans out her pencil and details it’s feathers. But in all honesty, as she clenches her jaw, it ends up looking like literal roadkill.

So she growls in frustration into the empty room and rips the paper from the book, scrunching it up as she flips to a new one, crossing a leg over the other and thinks about _anything_ besides dead birds.

She’s halfway into drawing a _camilia_ and its petals when she hears someone else’s footsteps.

Peggy looks up, idly side sweeping her gaze as she intends to look back down at her sketch and concentrate. But _holy shite_ , Peggy nearly breaks her pencil at the _obvious_ angel that just walked in, the one that is now pacing alongside glass cases filled with fossils with an intrigued expression. Peggy would like to say it happened less... _’true love at first sight’_ kinda thing. But this IS the same Peggy who doesn’t know what she’s really like with love so she could be either already in it, _or_ just flirting with the idea.

But Jesus, the woman that is looking up at one of the large fossils on display in awe is seriously someone you don’t meet everyday. Peggy can’t help it, how her eyes just gravitate to her figure. The brunette woman’s head inclined upwards, her strong angled jawline and neck muscles that flinch as she moves her head this way and that. Her _hands_ , oh no Peggy is a secret lover of hands. And boy does this woman make her swoon with the lean fingers and light protruding veins that run along her arm and knuckles. How her short but finesse pair of legs are showing off their calves with how she leans on her tippy toes to better see whatever has captured her attention.

Peggy’s hand is already moving across the page, gliding, scratching, etching, shading as Peggy fusses over how to get the woman’s _neck_ right because it’s so detailed and her collarbones are so fine Peggy finds it hard to believe she can capture it. She frays out the woman’s short skirt on the paper, and details how her one hand is now shoved in her blazer pocket and the other is playing with a necklace that sits above those collarbones. Small bones  then show through her feet from the flats she wears, and that hand shows a wrist with a thin tattoo of an arrow pointing to her palm.

Peggy marvels at how detailed she’s getting this woman from where she sits, eyebrows draw together and lip in between her teeth. But really, how could anyone blame her? Every angle on the woman is _perfect,_ and Peggy enjoys, with a slight upturn of her lips, how the waves of the woman’s hair falls down her paper so effortlessly.

She’s staring intently at her page finishing off the woman’s lining of her shirt when she honest to god feels her heart explode, from the surprise at the voice suddenly at her ear.

“Whatcha got there?”

Needless to say, Peggy screamed, dropped her pencil and paper, then proceeded to clamp a hand over her mouth at how it echoed. “ _Christ”_. With the other hand over her heart, she closes her eyes briefly and chuckles softly at the other woman’s eyebrow raising an amused smirk.

“Jeez, didn’t mean to scare ya”

Peggy calms her racing heart and leans down to pick up her dropped things, coming back up shaking her head and smiling. “Yes well, despite not meaning to, you did a spectacular job”

The other woman giggles and sits down next to Peggy, apparently not really knowing what personal space is as she leans over Peggy’s shoulder and pears at her drawing. Peggy left to blush slightly because-

_Oh no._

She’s been _drawing_ her like a creep from afar for the past 10 minutes, and the woman in question is now leaning too close to comfort, smelling like sweet intoxicating perfume and sandalwood.  

Oddly specific, but one can’t really forget a smell when someone is _right at your side._

The other woman grins and shrugs at Peggy’s previous words and looks up, her shoulder hitting her’s, with Peggy left to stare at how oceanic her eyes are. Like someone managed to plant trees in the sea and called it a day.

“Sorry not sorry. Couldn’t help noticin’ your blatant staring?”

And Peggy blushes again, flipping the page over and breathing deeply as she winces. “God really, so sorry. Highly inappropriate of me” She hears, or rather feels, the other woman chuckle as she shrugs again.

“Nah, it’s cool. Actually kinda endearing knowing someone took an interest in you enough to draw you. You know?” Peggy blushes and winces, flipping the book back open as the other woman just smiles and opens her palm in quiet questioning. Peggy sighs and hands the pad over, looking to the woman in bated breath if she’ll either actually realise how weird this situation is or how Peggy never got to finish drawing her legs.

But Peggy just breathes in and smiles nervously. “Gathered that did you?”

But the other woman is staring wide eyed and open mouthed to the paper, eyebrows scrunched at how utterly _amazing_ the sketch is. How the hell did she capture her eyes so well? And holy shit somehow the mystery sketch artist captured even the awe stricken look she has sporting.

“Oh my god. This is..fuck, amazing! Seriously,” Peggy watches her laugh lightly in glee and she can’t help but join in, getting whiplash from the excitement of the brunette. “I gotta know the name of someone who can draw me like Mona Lisa”

Peggy smiles bashfully and watches how the other woman’s eyes haven't left the page as she raises her hand to her to shake. “Peggy. Peggy Carter” The other woman nods lightly and hums, taking the hand and shaking absentmindedly, still staring at the page . “Yeah, cool. Nice to meet ya Picasso”

Peggy frowns with a confused stare and laughs lightly. “Peggy. I said Peggy” The other woman nods and vaguely gestures with her hand, still fixated on the drawing.

“Got that English. But damn,” She blows a breath out and shakes her head. “With hands that can do _this,_ Picasso kinda fits”

Peggy rolls her eyes and grabs the paper back, smiling as she watches the other woman pout and frown. “Yes well, you now have three names for me yet I have none for you. Where’s the fairness in that?”

The other woman smirks and holds her hand out like Peggy, mocking a fake British accent as Peggy takes her hand with an amused look. “Angela. Angela Martinelli at your service my fair lady. But Angie is positively exquisite”

Peggy frowns and scoffs.“Okay first, I don’t sound like that at _all_ ”

Angie lets out a sound of ‘ _phsst’_ and folds her arms. “Course you do” Peggy narrows her eyes.

“Do not”

Angie smiles as she stands, walking towards one of the exhibits in glass and calling over her shoulder. “I’m gonna ignore your cute little pout and believe that yes, Picasso, you have the most cliche accent”

Peggy rolls her eyes and stands to follow, coming up behind her as Angie bends over to peer into the case. “And you have the most cliche American accent. Agree to disagree?” She stands back up and nods, a teasing smile as she bumps shoulders like they’ve know each other for more than 10 minutes. And Peggy, when she left her apartment for inspiration, didn’t think she’d find it in a small ball of Brooklyn sass.

But here she is, smiling as Angie nods. “Sure English”

Before Peggy can ask Angie a burning question along the lines of _“What compelled you to come to a museum of all places, and better yet, what compelled me?”_ Angie beats her as she suddenly shyly looks down from their teasing smiles and bites her lip.

“It wouldn’t be weird to ask for that sketch, would it?” Peggy tries to not let the surprise show on her face, but must fail as Angie quickly shakes her head and laughs nervously. “Shit, sorry yeah, it’s weird”

Peggy can’t help but chuckle lightly because _Angie’s weird?_ If anyone in this room was being abnormal it was Peggy.

“Angie, honestly I think I’m the one who should be weird. I drew you from afar like a total creep”

Angie smiles and nods, laughing as Peggy shakes her head confusedly. “No seriously. How have you not filed a restraining order?” But Angie just snorts and snatches the paper out of Peggy’s hand again and flips to the page. Peggy wonders how she can be both rude yet polite in this endearing way. She watches how Angie looks at her like the answers obvious as she gestures to the sketch.

“Cause English, you drew me like…” Angie pauses, shakes her head and waves it off as if a joke. “You just drew me like I was somebody, ya know? Three failed auditions later do that to a girl”

Peggy frowns and opens her mouth, her heart strangely calling out to her as Angie smiles that sad little smile that says _“I’m not okay but I don’t really know you so I’m gonna shut up now”_ But Peggy, well she already knew she was gone when Angie walked in, so she doesn’t really have anything to lose, now does she?

“Angie?” She looks up, her eyes still sad as Peggy grabs her pencil and takes the paper, scribbling down in the corner in elegant stroke. “If it wasn’t clear, of course you can keep it.”

Angie’s smiles slightly and takes the paper hesitantly. “Really? Why?”

And Peggy thinks back to her sister’s messages, and phone calls, and the things she left behind in London.

_Claire: Pegs, this is coming from your sister who loves you. Just..when you’re in New York, try a little? Steve would love you for it._

_Seen 9: 56pm ✔_

Peggy smiles and swallows, breathing in as she walks over to the seat and grabs her bag, standing as she plays with the strap. Angie looking at her quizzically.

And Peggy answers her previous question, her smile genuine. “Why? Well, _you_ Angie, seem to be the first person who I’ve ever drawn thats real on the page”

And with that Peggy nods, smiles lightly and lets the breath out, turning around and walking to the exit. Angie’s surprised face and smile etched into her brain. She hears her call out behind her, smiling to herself as Angie’s voice echoes against the museum walls.

“L&L diner! Don’t be a stranger Picasso!”

Peggy turns around and walks backwards, waving at Angie who seems so small in the vast empty room. “Wouldn’t dream of it!” Angie shakes her head and looks down, the elegant writing adorning the corner of the page making her smile and the phone number making her heart flutter.

_I don’t do this often I swear (that means stare at strangers and draw them)_

__

_But you’re a hell of alot more than a somebody Angela Martinelli._

__

_Thankyou for being my muse._

__

_-Peggy Carter (Picasso aka English) x_

When she walks home, the busy New York streets covering her in the mass of people, making her almost invisible, Angie feels like everything and more.

 


End file.
